Tag: Time

  • Broken Shells and Cliches.

    Broken Shells and Cliches.

    Forgive the slightly meandering nature of this piece of writing, I may be writing out loud some of my inner musings over the last few weeks and months as it feels like a long time I’ve written, maybe not for you, but for me it does, and most of that time I’ve been engaged in some deep inner work, thats given insight to some of the below, I’ve also been giving more time to being creative in other ways, including trying to get the book (s) on track. Over the last 24 hours I’ve been pondering something that I thought was worth sharing, and so….here goes…

    Do you find sometimes that theres some overused cliches in the ‘healing’ world? resurrection to life, caterpillar to butterfly, autumns letting go of leaves….and that Japanese art thingy (Kintsugi) where they put gold between cracks of the jar or pot to make it more beautiful than previously. There isnt a week that goes past that someone refers to it somewhere, and for your joy, it’s me today.

    The problem with cliches, is not them. Its us. It’s me, because I dismiss it too quickly, too soon, and not give its complexity time to dwell. Overuse breeds complacency, popularity causes it to be dismissed.

    Yesterday Japanese pot mending (Kintsugi) was brought to my attention at a time when I noticed it, it snuck up on me unannounced….a time when I was ready for it, not to be a meme, but something that yielded something of depth, and has taken me on a little reflective learning journey.

    Broken Shell

    More beautiful for having been broken.

    Yesterday, as part of my work, I was in the role of chaplain for a retreat that I had helped to organise for the worship leaders and preachers for the Methodist church in my district (Darlington , UK), the theme was pilgrimage, and it was led by John, who had travelled the Santiago de Camino around 15 years ago. It was a beautiful day, and the first time I heard personal stories of the route, bringing to life for me some of the stories I had read in Paulo Coelho’s book ‘The Pilgrimage’ that has been influential to me over the last few years.

    During the day, we learned about the scallop shell, the emblem of the pilgrammage, a shell that is attached to the bags of those along the way, and has become an emblem of pilgrimage. (we used the same shape for id badges and also gave people a shell stamp as they departed yesterday (heres mine)

    John shared how a few months after he had completed the pilgrimage, he was sharing about his experiences on the route in a local church, and was showing them the artefacts, boots, his bag and journal ..and the shell. In a turn of events, he left the shell attached to his bag, but someone dropped a chair onto his bag and as a consequence, the shell broke into two.

    He described how the broken shell now reminded him of how following the way of pilgrimage is more often about following the way of brokenness and the shell, that was naturally imperfect now gives him this reminder.

    But I went to somewhere else.

    I went to the Japanese art gold thread concept.

    The last few months ive been a simmering rage pot.

    Inner boiling water has been one open lid away from explosions. Ive felt hurt, ive felt pain, ive been digging into the source of it all (yes childhood abuse, being stolen from emotionally, being child therapist/responsible one, feeling alone/suicidal at 9) , and realising much, not all for here. 

    But rage, heat, fire

    And reflecting on the broken shell, i shared some of this with John, as the participants also reflected in their groups.n

    I shared how I noticed that if the shell was able to withstand the heat of the golden meld required, that the heat of the material softens and prepares the two parts for integration, but whilst the meld is furnace hot, the two parts can still move, they can still be split apart, they are not integrated. I noticed as I gave this concept time, that it is only when the bonding material cools, that integration occurs.

    Heat causes the possibility of integration, rage exposes the rawness of it all.

    But heat alone is not enough.

    The key materials of kintsugi are: ki urushi (pure urushiol-based lacquer), bengara urushi (iron red urushi), mugi urushi (a mixture of 50% ki urushi and 50% wheat flour), sabi urushi (a mixture of ki urushi with two kinds of clay), and a storage compartment referred to as a furo (“bath” in Japanese) where the mended pottery can rest at 90% humidity for between 2 days to 2 weeks as the urushi hardens.

    The cooling down period from that extreme heat is variable.

    The cooling down period from that extreme heat requires the right conditions – stillness, gentleness, the ‘right humidity’ (according to wiki)

    It’s only after the cooling down period that there is integration.

    In the heat, theres still damage, but heat is required.

    Taking the shell as the example, im not sure this kind of fracture could be melded using such extreme heat, and like the bones in our body, fusion is delicate, and sometimes best left to nature, until we dont have the capacity to. The broken clay pot though can withstand the heat, requires the heat.

    Coolness beyond the rage seems to be a place of integration.

    It would require careful manual handling to bring the two parts together, not forced, not so squeezed the meld disappears, not too lose as the materials then don’t bond. Our parts require gentleness, there are no bad parts (IFS).

    Perpetual rage, however, is not a place of integration. It’s a place of heat, its loose, its bitter, it keeps the fragmentation, it keeps the possibility for the wound to expose itself again (and wounds are deep, wounds hurt, wounds require rage 100%).

    There were times, in the last few months that I couldnt function due to the rage, especially in places that had harmed me. Yet similarly, that rage was fully justified (and as ive shared before, anger itself was suppressed in me, by parents and also church) So….there was a lot.

    Every now and then in the last few years, anger and rage has been a visitor to me. As I realise what happened to me, and what I didn’t have, and should have done…and how frustrating it is to have to be ‘brave’ all the time… and not be believed… It’s completely understandable.

    I may not like it when rage is a visitor, but a lifetime of avoiding it, was far far worse.

    Im getting slowly used to letting rage do its melding work. But it’s hot and uncomfortable.

    The cliche of the Japanese pot art as it revealed itself to me yesterday through a broken shell.

    I began to see something, and realise that time (2days to 2 weeks) is required, for the heat to cool, and it is only when it does does integration happen. Theres something deep in cliches if we give them time. Theres something held in our wounds if we gently let them speak, and sometimes they need to shout, rage and boil.

    Thank you for reading.

    I was going to share more, but I’ll save that for the next piece, for as ive reflected on the pots, something else has revealed itself.

  • Ive been a little bit quiet recently…

    Ive been a little bit quiet recently…

    Which given my output previously was probably not a surprise. Writing on here has taken a bit of a back seat for a number of reasons. I quit Facebook for two months too, and whilst ive spent a bit of time on Substack, where theres other writers and far far less on current news, drama of politics and tbh quite a bit of stuff I just really didnt need to see, engage with or for it to take up my energy.

    I needed to switch off.

    Ive switched off before, and many of you know that involved avoiding the news and radio, and quitting twitter.

    Its been a time where I have had to face a number of battles, ones that will probably never get mentioned here, and also some personal challenges that one day might do, some of which began days after I temporarily quit Facebook itself.

    What I have needed to do is dig pretty deep into whatever reserves I have just to live, and when I say live, I mean respond well and stay emotionally afloat amidst alot, when trauma, triggers, fears and anxieties could easily start to pull me backwards, and this includes work, and rest and be there for people close to me who have been in a place of struggle too.

    So I have been a bit quiet recently, in terms of writing on here, but what’s been so important to me has continued to be ….. writing….. whether this has been daily journalling, free writing and expressing myself in words – the writing that releases, thats not for public consumption.

    I have also realised that the last few years of being in a good place has significantly given me the inner space to be able to deal with the last few months, even if that has also meant refining what I was spending my energy on, a refining that was as much about making powerful choice to favour myself in my own soul and power, and not give myself away to consuming and reading.

    I have been quiet recently. Because I am ok. Because i was giving too much at times to this type of writing, the type that could sometimes get me into that endorphin cycle feedback loop of positivity, and maybe even trying too hard to be creative, original or helpful, when actually what I needed instead was to be me, in my raw vulnerability, and write for me. Im already on journal number 3 for this year.

    And Im typing up version 2 of my second book, and yes, sadly this stuff has stalled too, but I am about to restart this too.

    Am I writing because I need to explain everything to you? No.

    Or to apologise? No

    Maybe its just to say thank you, thank you for the messages that you’ve sent me via whatever means whenever I have mentioned that ‘your words were meaningful today’ or when ‘you’ve sent a message of support’ when I haven’t been able to say why, and still can’t.

    Life is bigger than writing, and Life is bigger than the stuff and I am continually , daily remembering and giving love to myself, to feel loved everyday, is also to care for my energy and protect it, to realise I can sit and read, listen to music and not use what I read to write something, or to expend energy writing in the way I have done fairly prolifically in the last few years.

    I have been useless at ever doing a regular piece of writing, ie just doing one piece a week, and limit myself, its seemed to be in bursts, or gaps, maybe thats what I could do, more heat and depth, and not just noise. But let’s just see, maybe thats for a next chapter of writing…and the books I want to write will definitely take priority. Am I ‘coming back’ …maybe…but definatley differently..

    So thank you.

    Im still here, and im more than ok. I really am.

    Bless you, and thank you

    Much deep gratitude

    James x

  • Your Eternity Within

    I often heard….

    ‘In the beginning was the Word

    and the word was God, and the word was with God’ (John 1) 

    But….

    What was before? 

    Before the word

    The space..

    before the word.

    The one in which the word was spoken

    And who heard?

    Was God then too? 

    In the Silence

    In the no-thing?

    In eternal no-thing,

    Where existence hung

    and just was. 

    In itself,

    Silence before the act

    Silence.

    Calm before the word embodied God

    Silence in the invisible, in which the invisible existed

    Love, Truth, Mystery 

    In their pure calm state and

    wordless noise.

    Space before the word. 

    The space when creativity emerged..

    and work, and rules and everything else

    and ever since.

    A wrestle in the soul 

    to find that same soul silence

    the soul silence at the pre dawning of time,

    Became;

    Divine consciousness in the heart of our being.

    Still small voice of calm.

    Eternal calm from before

    Present deep within

    Where there is no-thing, just that purety awakening.

    Transcendent calm, innocent calm

    Alive calm, powerful calm

    Calmness in which the angels are heard

    That connects to loves deep consciousness 

    Whole restored

    Soul calm

    beyond, before, beneath

    being

    where no-thing dwells, just love

    Just like in the beginning, 

    before the word

    there was silence

    there was love. 

    There your soul began. 

    And that is where you are.

  • Calling from the Blue

    Calling from the Blue

    And then….

    The lights went out

    Darkness filled the air

    Stillness hung like smoke

    No-thing

    Space for fear to come in

    Dread

    Alone-ness

    Oh how those disciples of Jesus, and the women, and others, each of them lost in different ways,

    facing the end, death, and an uncertain life

    Allegiances loosely pledged, dashed, unfulfilled.

    Wondering lost in the next

    That hadn’t started, that wasnt there

    Just lost.

    They probably woke early, even if exhausted,

    To the new darkness approaching.

    They had nothing to wait for, because nothing was expected.

    Grief freezes

    Grief holds

    Grief and Anger mixed together in a soup of despair

    The poignancy of the empty blue sky

    and the shadows of the day before.

    The rush to start the new,

    to move forward

    to get on with life

    to run, avoid, fill up time

    Blue deep sky in the morning.

    Blue hearted

    Death is the great wound in the universe, it is the ultimate vulnerability that overshadows every footstep

    John O Donohue, Divine Beauty

    Yet…. love waits, calling from the blue

    Calling from the tears

    Calling from the unfulfilled dreams

    Calling from the nothingness

    Calling from the truth

    So…

    Take your time

    Its important that you feel

    And feel it deeply

    No rush

    Take your time

    Its important that you feel

    and feel it

    wholly.

    A known path is often full of potholes

    Take your time

    Its important that you feel

    your way

    led on the wings of the angels

    carried at their speed……

    not yours

    not the speed that you were going

    as you rushed to make it happen

    headlong into perfectionist headache

    Running from avoidance in your heart

    No rush

    Take your time

    Life awaits

    and calls you

    in the midst of

    in the midst

    of

    the waiting

    the liminal space

    between

    the death of the old

    the awakening of the new

    Take your time

    No rush

    It’ll be there

    Yet in this moment

    in its ambiguity

    in its uncomfort

    in its wrestle

    is your working

    is where your life tools get chiseled

    Self compassion and care make their deepest clean

    Dreams wrestle with reality

    Frustration becomes a higher calling

    to a place beyond, not yet felt

    not yet in..

    Take your time

    as an act of love

    a gift to yourself

    to embrace this now

    embrace this gift

    let it change you

    make you

    teach you

    No rush

    Take your time

    Life day will happen

    Resurrection day will happen

    In your soul, in your heart

    and

    now

    its just making itself known

    awakening your heart to feel it

    in the midst of this now

    So

    No Rush

    Let Love move in its slow way

    Beyond the blue

    in the blue.

  • Stillness Revealing the Flow

    It was only when I stopped did I notice.

    As I stood on the bridge

    I stood still, only breathing

    As I sensed the world flow around me.

    On a bridge.

    Next to me, the footsteps of people, passing by, their flow of movement, the chatter, the excitement, the practicality of voice, crossing roads, heading out, heading home, their movement a flow, to and from, each with different speeds, unless their hands beautifully held together, walking to the same rhythm.

    And then the cars, in the space behind me, from many destinations, it was their engines, the acceleration, and brakes, from known places to other places. Carriages of metal, making their way, as they did so, I felt the air pressure change on my back, as larger cars, or trucks forced themselves through the cool air, and made themselves known.

    Underneath me, the flow of water, gathering pace down stream, clear, greens underneath, awash with whispers of white waves, reflecting the sun, twinkling in the sun, water reaching for its sea destination, and on the way accommodating, inviting life to partake in the home it creates in its depths.

    Flow, restless, never ending, from its origin, ultimately the heavens and back to it, via the mountains, the gulleys and heading out to sea.

    Flowing underneath me. The river dancing its way in shimmers of glossy light, its flow controlled by volume, and directed by the land with which encases it, aside from later in its life downstream its force brings edges of soil and rock to their knees.

    And as I stood, alive to the flow, the wind breathed its deceptively coldness, on this bright sun filled day. Origin unknown, destination, unknown, yet it made its presence real to me, the cold flow across the back of my arms, head and calves.

    Wind, that breathes itself freedom, an unstoppable, untameable force, now creating power, yet as I stood, its cold flow caused shivers, its energy cool.

    Underneath the river

    Behind me the cars and people

    Around me the wind

    The Flow of life

    That exact time, of a quartet of flows, never to be repeated.

    And I, the watcher, the feeler, standing there.

    Still.

    A contrast to the flow.

    Preventing in a minuscule way, particles of wind from finding their destination, affecting on me.

    Flow of energy all around, life force mysterious, known and unknown combining in restless urgency, and creative power, nurturing life, and travelling through, each journeying. And I being.

    What flow, circulates around me, invites me, where shall I go, how shall I flow, open, flying on the breeze, floating down the river, swimming up the stream, walking along predetermined concrete, free as the wind.

    Where time is measured in wonder, and joy and creativity, partners in the dance.

    And then, it was time.

    Time to walk.

    Alive to flow.

    Alive to being Still, amidst it.

    ‘Stillness is the canvas against which movement can become beautiful’ (John O Donohue, Divine Beauty)

  • What If Love and God are the same?

    What If Love and God are the same?

    Someone once said to me

    That Love could be spelt T.I.M.E

    And someone else once said to me that it was important to

    Spend time with God

    And someone else once said to me that

    God is Love.

    And someone else once said to me that I am God, and

    that the search for God out there takes us away from God that is in ‘here’.

    So.

    Time with God is Time with Love

    Love with God is Love with You

    and you can’t have time with God because you are God

    and Love, and God and You and Time

    are all closer to one thing.

    and you are that…..thing?

    Not just a thing, but an all thing, a full thing

    If you are God and God is Love, then might that mean

    that you are love too?

    And you do not have time with God, for you are God

    And Love is all, then you are all.

    And belief in God might mean belief in love….and belief in yourself.

    Only you

    Sacred union of soul

    Habituating in the heart

    Beyond everything is, just is

    and there is you, all along

    Perfect one-ness of being

    Whole

    Human

    Being.

    Embodied Soul.

    Dancing the delight, the orgy of the night

    Transcendent beauty eclipsing love around an orbit of joy.

    Beyond time

    Love making being.

  • The Invitation

    Because in this moment

    There is nothing to fear

    Just you

    And what is.

    The water, the stones, the reflection

    That, is , what, is here

    If you are here.

    Truly really here

    Notice the stillness

    And do not be afraid

    Of the moment it creates

    Do not be concerned

    About the next thing, or the past one

    Do not be in a hurry

    To rush right past

    Do.not have to please

    Or perform

    Or think

    Or fight

    There is no fight

    There is no other time

    There is no….thing at all

    Just be here

    All of you

    Invited into stillness

    By her.

    By the river, no…

    Not by her

    But by the universe, the big girl

    Notice

    Do not take

    Do not give

    Just open, your heart to be here

    Relax those weary shoulders

    And she will give you ….everything…

    The very breath you share with her

    Is hers all along

    And yours all along too

    Stay, you are invited here

    The gathering of your soul in the stillness of the water

    The gathering of.your heart and body to gaze….to delve

    To play deep into her, where you belong

    And your soul finds it’s home

    She desires and calls you into her intoxicating love

    That embraces you in love, unconditionally

    So you can stay here forever

    And not be afraid.

    Rest at the speed of soul.

    Notice her

    Notice you

    And be loved.

    Wholly and deeply,

    In the stillness.

  • Savouring Uniqueness

    As I stood here

    I didn’t notice the cars

    Or the take away shop beaming purple

    Or the shadowed arc of the bridge

    But the light

    As I stood there

    In that moment

    In that one exact time

    A million combinations of light flooded my eyes

    Every one unique

    And I pressed the shutter

    Awed by the incredible uniqueness of each

    How red, white, orange and purple

    Shared and reflected their neon hue

    Colours dancing , like lovers and friends at a ball

    Calling the river fairies from the deep

    The dance of light

    Flow uninterrupted.

    A million combinations of light

    Like the billion combinations of stars

    And the million combinations of clouds

    And the million combinations of us

    Amongst the infinity of time

    And in this moment

    This one

    Saw me.

  • Following The Gap

    Take a moment and have a look at this photo. 

    What do you notice?

    The Misty shrouded mountain top? 

    The Stone wall?

    The Green fields?

    As I stood and looked at this scene just before Christmas, the thing I noticed was the gaps. 

    Gaps. 

    Intentional spaces between a barrier, or border, space left open. 

    A navigation tool,  and opening to see from distance to walk towards. 

    To follow. 

    To trust. 

    To know that you are on a path (though might not always be the right one ;-) ) 

    And at the start of the new year, the year starts with the gap of opportunity. The gap of unlived promise, desires to be awakened, space to be filled. 

    Yet…

    What, if I’m honest, do I struggle with most? 

    Often it’s the gap between expectation and reality, the expectations in my thoughts, and the reality of the experiences, what actually is happening, or going to and being unable to have open acceptance. Too little a gap between them, to much mind going on in the swirl of the every experience.

    Or the noise in my mind when I think I’m in trouble, or upset someone , or not done enough, or guilt about any of these things and the filling of the space happens….yet….

    Or even deciding to make that gap, because it’s sometimes so much more comfortable to fill it, even when that inner discomfort is saying otherwise. Because, I can decide, I have more power than I realise.

    What space might we make for the gap, that space between things and no-things. 

    To sense and make a space between expectations and realities, and not feel disappointment, but to notice that what is as a gift. 

    The gap is open, it is air. 

    It may be time to breathe in the gap. 

    To make space to dwell in presence, and not productivity.

    The Slow time of betweenness where silence calls its disturbing, and also peaceful voice. 

    Space for Space itself

    The invitational promise of the gap

    That focussed the mind on consciousness itself

    To wonder

    To be

    To imagine

    The gap between thought and feeling

    Between longing and belonging

    Where we find God, being, freedom or Love

    Where we sense that mystical indescribable something, close.

    Just there. 

    Always.

    Like the empty pages of this years diary, or the gaps between the notes in a music score. 

    Notice.

    The Gap.

    And, let the Gap call you forward.  

    Take your time this year. 

    Move slowly. 

    And decide to go there. 

    To give that energy inwards

    And let it find you. 

    Because it’s there.

    And there may you be embraced by peace. 

    Time, to be, time to sit,

    stay there…as long as you can dwell.   

    This has been inspired by my current reading which is  ‘Living Untethered’ by Michael A Singer, his previous book ‘The Untethered Soul’ is one I highly recommend, on seeing, feeling and noticing the mind, and how to live in personal freedom. 

  • What kind of noise.. does Silence make (until she is heard)?

    What kind of noise does silence make

    to find herself heard?

    As she wanders.

    She won’t interrupt your schedule,

    Chase your ego,

    or shout herself from the rooftops.

    She wont force

    She wont make herself known where she isn’t wanted

    She doesn’t make a noise

    and yet she does, as

    She lingers in the voices.

    The uncomfortable sound

    at the edge of pain.

    She accompanies the words

    in the gap.

    This. Gap.

    When the noise subsides

    she is there.

    She is Awkward at first.

    Agitated.

    She is unwelcome.

    Yet;

    She invites the reluctant adventurer

    to her.

    She waits.

    Making a sound only the brave can find.

    A noiseless call

    Where only the courageous go

    Her sound in the gaps of no-thing

    When some-thing feels like comfort

    Silence, You need Love

    Silence, you need to shout louder

    Silence, rise to heal

    Silence make more noise!

    But no, she waits

    For those who seek her, will eventually find

    And the noise that she needs to make

    is to awaken your choice to find her

    accept her, treasure and bring yourself

    to her accepting unconditional arms

    For Silence does make a noise

    as wanders

    and yet

    the prospect of her scares the unready mind

    causes ruptures in the soul.

    ‘I don’t want to go there’ – I said

    ‘I don’t need you’ – I said

    ‘Im fine without you’ – I said

    ‘I’ll survive’ – I said

    Ill always bounce – I said

    And all of this is true.

    And yet I filled every silence possible with layers of noise.

    Silence screaming in my head.

    Yet, in the pain of every thought

    The reality of silence is waiting

    To love.

    Because thats what she says.

    Dare you listen to her voice?

    Dare you give her time?

    Dare you listen to the gap, and see where she may be found?

    And open yourself to be found by her

    She will only love you

    She will only reveal you…to you

    She will only give to you

    She will only heal

    Accompanying every breath

    If you can choose

    to hear how she calls for you

    Can you hear her, making herself known to you?

    She waits, to love you whole

    She waits, for your thoughts to subside

    She waits, in the midst

    For you.

    What kind of noise does silence make, for you to find her?

    The one that calls you, when you look inside.